


Welcome Home

by extasiswings



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Bandstand AU, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Referenced PTSD, Trauma Recovery, WWII-era, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: “We’ve all been through worse,” Wyatt replies, and as she looks around, everyone nods. “And this is—they want a fantasy, they want to pretend that we all made it home and it’s this beautiful, heroic thing. But that’s—that’s not true. What happened over there, that’s true. What this band means to us, that’s true. What I feel—”Wyatt’s voice cracks as he looks between her and Flynn, and he clears his throat before continuing. “What I feel for you, for both of you, is true. No matter how hard it is, no matter how much time it takes, I need—I need to be with you. Because I love—I love—I love you.”[Bandstand AU]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of the amazing musical Bandstand (because I couldn't get the idea out of my head). If you haven't heard of it, do yourself a favor and look it up/give it a listen. At the very least listen to "This is Life" which is an absolutely amazing piece and the inspiration for the first chapter. For folks who don't know the story, WWII vets come home and form a band in order to win a song contest that's ostensibly meant to honor the troops. The band leader, Donny (here, Wyatt and Flynn) invites Julia, the widow of his friend from the war Michael (here, Noah), to sing with the band. As it turns out, Michael's death was caused by friendly fire when Donny accidentally dropped a grenade and he carries that guilt with him every day. I was...inspired, needless to say.

Lucy leans heavily against Flynn as they make their way down the hallway to her room, not because she’s actually unsteady on her feet—she’s had a drink or two more than usual, but she’s far from drunk—but because she enjoys the closeness. Under his jacket, pressed against his side, she feels...safe. Safe and warm and home. Home. 

(If it isn’t quite perfect, that’s only because she apparently doesn’t know when to quit, because she wants too much. Perfect would be more than her and Flynn, would be Wyatt as well, messy and flawed and broken as he is. They’re all messy and flawed and broken, after all—maybe his pieces could just fit theirs—but, no. She can’t think like that. Can’t let herself hope for the impossible. What is possible, or at least, what might be, is enough.)

“Thank you for walking me back,” Lucy says when they stop in front of her door. “I didn’t mean to cut short your first big night in New York with the guys.”

“No thanks needed,” he replies. “I would rather—I mean, I was glad for a reason to slip out anyway. It’s a little…”

“Overwhelming?” Lucy offers. It’s certainly been that way for her. A first class train ride, a night out on the town, the reality that they’re living the dream that Noah wanted, the one that’s been keeping them all moving for so many months now—she’s been torn between wanting to see and do absolutely everything and wanting to hide in bed all day.

Flynn nods. “Yeah. It’s...hard to believe it’s really happening.”

“All because of you.”

“And Wyatt,” he acknowledges. “And the rest of the guys. And you, of course. We never could have—I never could have—well, we wouldn’t be here without you either.”

Lucy wants to say that of course that isn’t true, that he and Wyatt are genius when they manage to actually work together, that they didn’t need her for any of it. But the look in his eyes..

_I never could have—_

(He’s not just talking about making it to New York.)

Sometimes it feels like she’s the only thing holding the lot of them together, her and the band. And yet, at the same time, they’ve put her back together as well, made her realize that she was drowning in her own way and pulled her head above the waterline. All of them...but especially Flynn and Wyatt.

“I should let you get to bed,” Flynn says before she can ultimately muster any response at all. “We have...a big day tomorrow after all.”

“Brunch in the morning, right?” Lucy asks, and Flynn manages a small smile.

“Yeah. And the audition at four.”

“We should...definitely get some rest then,” she agrees, but she makes no move to remove his jacket from around her shoulders, or even to step back from her close proximity.

Lucy’s breath catches as Flynn’s eyes flick to her mouth, then away. His throat works as he swallows hard, finally stepping back himself. This pull has always been there between them, but there have also always been reasons to deny it—she wasn’t ready to move on from Noah, Flynn was still grieving his wife in addition to everything he brought back from war, there were her feelings for Wyatt to consider as well—and yet, in this hall, this hotel, this city, on this night...god, she doesn’t want to deny it anymore. She wants to take that safety she felt while pressed against his side and keep it, to fall asleep with a warm body next to hers again, wrapped in strong arms. And more than that, she wants to give that safety back to Flynn—safety and healing and home—so that he might find some peace in her arms as well. Enough to sleep.

(Lucy know he doesn’t. Knows Wyatt doesn’t either. Has spent enough nights drifting off on the couch in Flynn’s apartment only to wake in the morning to find the two men at the piano still arguing over some chord progression or other to know better. But she would give anything, anything, to give either of them even half the peace they’ve brought her.)

“Lucy…”

Before she can talk herself out of it, Lucy leans up on her toes and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Flynn’s eyes fall shut, his hand raising instinctively as if to take her waist, but he doesn’t allow himself to do more than grip the edge of his jacket where it hangs off her shoulders. 

“I think—I think we need to talk.”

Lucy curls her fingers in the front of Flynn’s shirt and kisses the other side of his mouth. He shudders.

“We could do that,” she replies. “Or, we could…”

She ghosts a kiss across his lips, feeling not unlike she’s playing with a loaded gun. This could backfire spectacularly, but she knows how he looks at her, knows what she wants from him, knows what she wants to give him. Physical intimacy won’t erase his memories, won’t take away his nightmares, but she could at least give him something new.

(And maybe, if she’s honest, it’s something she needs herself. From Flynn, from Wyatt, from both of them. She never thought she would find this kind of love again, never thought she would want to risk hurting the way she did when she lost Noah ever again. But this man, these men are worth the risk. She loves, she loves, she loves them.)

Flynn groans quietly and then crushes her to him, one arm curling around her waist as his other hand cups her cheek. He kisses her until she’s breathless, until her knees are weak. It’s desperate and needy, as though he’s a drowning man and she’s the only air in the room. And only when her back hits the door with a quiet thud does he seem to recall himself and pull away. 

His mouth is red, eyes dark, and he looks utterly wrecked, shell-shocked in an entirely different way. There are no grenades here, no trenches, no guns. Just her and Flynn and a hotel hallway. A bed, if she can convince him to come inside.

“Lucy, I—I shouldn’t,” he says. 

“Why not?” Lucy asks. “Why shouldn’t we?”

Flynn closes his eyes and his hand flexes on her hip. “I’m—Lucy, I’m a mess.”

“I know.”

“I can’t give you everything you need right now.”

“I know,” she repeats. “I don’t care about that. What is it you need?”

Flynn kisses her again, light as a feather. 

“You,” he admits. “You, and—”

Lucy bites her lip, heart skipping at the pause. Because as much as she knows how he looks at her, she also knows how he looks at Wyatt. But she didn’t dare to hope—

“And?” She asks quietly.

“Wyatt,” he replies. “Both of you. I know it isn’t—”

“Me too,” she interrupts, and Flynn’s eyes shoot to hers. “It’s—it’s both of you for me too.”

(Maybe it’s greedy, maybe it’s selfish, and hell, maybe she should hate Wyatt for what happened with Noah instead of forgiving him, loving him, but she doesn’t care. She loves them, she wants them, and if Flynn wants it to be all of them as well, then maybe…)

Lucy reaches out and takes his free hand, bringing it back to her cheek. His thumb passes along her cheekbone and she sighs.

“But...he’s not here right now,” she acknowledges. “And you are. So I’m asking...do you want to come in?”

“More than anything.”

“But?”

Flynn kisses her one last time before stepping back completely.

“If I come in, I will lose myself in you,” he says. “It would be so easy. But I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be okay. And Lucy, I—when I make love to you, I don’t want it to be an escape. To do that, I need to be okay. So...I can’t.”

(It’s not the declaration that Hollywood might flock to. A fictional romance would say to hell with the reality, love conquers all. But this is life, not fiction. And Flynn is right.)

Lucy nods once. _I love you_ , she thinks. 

“Tomorrow then,” she says. “Sleep well, Garcia.”

“Goodnight, Lucy.”

It takes a long time for her to go to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Flynn isn’t entirely sure how he gets back to his room—he walks himself obviously, but he doesn’t remember it at all, not when his jacket smells like Lucy, when his mouth feels branded from her kiss, when his fingers twitch at his side at the ghost of her waist under them. He could go back. Despite what he said, Lucy would probably be willing to repeat her offer. Which, of course, is exactly why he shouldn’t.

(He’s not a saint, just a man. And it has been a very long time. He could tell himself it would just be to sleep, that he wouldn’t do anything other than wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, but there wouldn’t be a chance in hell of him sticking to that if she kissed him again.)

_If I come in, I will lose myself in you. It would be so easy._ It hadn’t been a lie.

Flynn takes a steadying breath as he forces the thought away and opens his own door. Not that his room presents any less of a minefield given that he’s sharing with Wyatt, but it’s a minefield of a different kind. He’s more comfortable with that one, like he has a map with marks everywhere he should avoid. With Lucy, his losses match hers. With Wyatt, it’s their scars that match. Somehow that’s easier to manage.

Wyatt isn’t there when Flynn walks in, and all Flynn hopes is that he’s sticking with Ethan instead of Connor—Connor’s jokes might be better, but the hangover tomorrow probably won’t be worth it. Not that he thinks Wyatt would do anything to jeopardize their shot here, but Flynn knows all too well there’s a lot of weight on those shoulders right now. The divorce with Jessica, Lucy finally demanding answers about Noah, all of them working themselves half to death to make this all happen—

And then there’s him. Them. A stolen kiss in the dark that they haven’t talked about to match the one from back during the war that they have. The only thing Flynn knows about the second is that he should probably stop letting Wyatt kiss him when Wyatt’s been drinking.

(He won’t. Because Wyatt only does it when he needs it, and he won’t ask for it when he’s sober. Or, at least, he hasn’t before. And Flynn doesn’t have it in him to turn him away, even if he’s always stopped it from going any further than kisses.)

It’s funny in a dark, ironic sort of way. Flynn went to war to escape his grief, not caring if he died, welcoming the possibility even. And then he found a different sort of family to the one he’d lost. Another family and another love. Two loves, in fact. And by some miracle, Lucy wants the same thing he does. All of them. Together.

Wyatt’s the wild card. Always has been, always will be. Flynn understands the guilt and self-loathing and all the rest better than Wyatt probably thinks he does, but in a way that just makes it more difficult to know what the final outcome might be. He could decide, as Flynn himself has, that it’s better to work through the pain and grief and trauma with people who care for him, or he could decide that he isn’t deserving of that and run.

Flynn really hopes it’s the former.

A key turns in the lock as Flynn is in the middle of undressing, shirt unbuttoned and suspenders hanging loose. Wyatt comes in, steadier on his feet than Wyatt might have expected.

“Hey,” Wyatt greets, tossing his own jacket onto a nearby chair. “Lucy get to bed alright?”

Before Flynn can answer, Wyatt’s eyes drop to Flynn’s mouth, to where Flynn is sure his lips are still stained with Lucy’s lipstick. Wyatt goes still, his smile dimming.

“Oh.”

“Wyatt—”

Wyatt tears his eyes away and clears his throat, focusing his attention on divesting himself of the rest of his evening-wear. 

“That’s great, man. I’m really happy for you two.”

Flynn sighs. “Wyatt—”

“Really, I am,” Wyatt continues. “You make her happy, and she makes you happy. You—you deserve each other.”

“Wyatt—”

“And you know, I think Noah—” Wyatt’s voice cracks and Flynn finds himself crossing the room without even thinking about it. “Noah would have wanted that for you. Both of you.”

“Wyatt!”

Wyatt’s head snaps up and his eyes widen at Flynn’s proximity. Flynn considers telling him what he and Lucy discussed, but there are some moments where actions really are better than words. Especially when Wyatt doesn’t seem to be in a state where he’s ready to listen to words. 

Which is why Flynn pushes Wyatt back against the wall and kisses him. Wyatt makes a hurt sound and grips Flynn’s open shirt, pulling him harder against him. Their previous kisses were always tentative, soft, but this is wild and fierce and hard—Wyatt claws at Flynn as if he can’t get close enough, as if he wants to absorb him into himself. Flynn licks into Wyatt’s mouth and Wyatt shudders. 

“I want you,” Flynn pants out when he pulls back just enough to breathe. “I want you. Lucy wants you. We both want you with us. So stop with the congratulations and the sad eyes because there is no us without you.”

Wyatt blinks slowly, his eyes dark and mouth wet. Flynn deliberately forces himself not to think about how that might look in a different situation.

“I don’t—” Wyatt clears his throat. “You—what?”

Flynn kisses him again and Wyatt goes pliant, falling into him like it’s the only place he wants to be. 

“We can talk about it tomorrow, after the audition,” Flynn says. “But for tonight...go brush your teeth so you don’t taste like a bar and then get your ass in bed.”

Wyatt swallows hard, looking between Flynn and the two beds. “Which one?”

“Mine, if you want,” Flynn replies. “Just to sleep, but—”

“Yes.” The response comes so quickly, Wyatt looks as if he’s even surprised himself. But he doesn’t take it back, even when his cheeks flush. “I—I want.”

Flynn nods and steps back. What he said to Lucy applies to Wyatt as well, but with him even more so—neither of them are in a position where they should be having sex, as much as it might be an appealing thought. But that doesn’t mean they have to sleep alone when they’re already sharing a room. 

Wyatt slips past him to the bathroom and Flynn finishes undressing before getting in bed. A few minutes later, the mattress dips and Flynn doesn’t hesitate to toss an arm over Wyatt’s waist. It’s not the first time he’s held the other man, but it’s the first time like this—in a bed, just because he wants to instead of it being a necessary way to keep warm in a trench. 

He doesn’t dare tell Wyatt he loves him, just as he hadn’t told Lucy in so many words, but he does. He does. And as he curls close, he can’t help thinking he wants this every night. 

“Flynn…” Wyatt murmurs.

Flynn presses a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

Wyatt doesn’t argue. Flynn drifts off without another thought.

* * *

When Wyatt wakes up, it takes him a few minutes to reorient himself. He’s warm and comfortable, wrapped up in arms that are far too big to belong to Jess—Flynn. God, Flynn. Everything from the night before comes flooding back—the way his stomach had dropped and twisted when he saw lipstick on Flynn’s mouth, the way Flynn had pushed him up against the wall and given him the kiss of his life, _“We both want you with us.”_ —oh, god. 

He can’t breathe suddenly, the warm, comforting weight of Flynn turning constricting even though the man himself hasn’t moved. Wyatt slips out from under his arm as carefully as he can, then grabs some clothes and locks himself in the bathroom. 

_We both want you with us._

What? Flynn and Lucy want what? They can’t want him, they shouldn’t want him. He’s a walking grenade, a wrecking ball. He’s falling apart. He can’t drop that on them to deal with, no matter how much he might want to. No matter how much he wants them too. He doesn’t deserve them. He never could. And when they realize that...they’ll leave. 

Wyatt’s hands shake so badly at the thought that he has to grip the sink to steady himself.

So...better that they don’t try to put up with him in the first place. They could be happy together. There’s no need for him to ruin that. 

Flynn is still asleep when Wyatt leaves the bathroom. Small mercies. If he wakes up when Wyatt slips out of the room, at least he isn’t there to see it. 

He just needs to focus, that’s all. He’s not running away, he’s just...giving Flynn space. Space to realize that he isn’t what either of them should want. And maybe he needs the space himself, to process the fact that Flynn kissed him, _Flynn_ kissed _him_ instead of the other way around. It doesn’t matter, shouldn’t matter, because either way he’s no good for Flynn or Lucy or both of them together—Jesus, that’s still a hell of a thought—but the memory of Flynn’s hands pushing him back, the strength in him, the confidence is enough to make Wyatt weak. 

Wyatt kills time wandering around Central Park, the frigid winter air just bracing enough to chase away all the what-ifs and fantasies that threaten to undo him. When he makes it back in time to catch everyone else headed to brunch, he avoids Flynn’s eyes and tries not to think about the way Lucy’s fingers catch Flynn’s briefly as they walk together before she pulls away. Instead, Wyatt draws Rufus and Dave into conversation and tries to pretend like he’s not falling apart. 

So, nothing new. 

“Okay, what gives?” Rufus asks hours later, once Flynn and Lucy have left and Rufus, Wyatt, and Ethan are the only ones still lingering at the table. “Everything was great last night and now you’re acting like a spooked horse whenever Flynn gets too close.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Ethan agrees. “Even more than usual. So, yeah, what gives?”

Wyatt swallows hard and stares down at his near-empty plate. “Nothing,” he says. “Just, uh, I was thinking maybe I could room with you two tonight? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Rufus snorts. “Okay, like hell is that nothing. What, did he finally admit he’s in love with you or something?”

Wyatt freezes. 

“...oh shit.” 

“It’s not—” Wyatt tugs at his shirt collar, wondering if it would be such a bad thing if it strangled him. “He kissed Lucy. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” Ethan replies. “You wouldn’t be this twitchy if it were just about Flynn kissing Lucy. None of us are blind, we know how they look at you.”

“It’s—okay, fine, maybe something else happened,” Wyatt admits. “But it can’t happen again, okay? It’s best if it doesn’t, so I just—please, can I just stay with you tonight?”

Ethan and Rufus share a look over the top of his head and Rufus nods. 

“Only tonight,” he says. “But we get the truth. And no color commentary from you either, just the facts.”

“What, now?”

“We’ve got time,” Ethan says, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. 

Wyatt looks from him to Rufus, taking in their matching expectant looks. His stomach twists, but he isn’t ready to go back to his room and risk running into Flynn yet, nor is he prepared to consider the prospect of spending another night in Flynn’s arms. Or in a separate bed, just feet apart, with the memory of it replaying over and over again.

“Fine.” 

When Wyatt finishes, Rufus’s face is impassive, but Ethan looks...upset. 

“Ethan?”

“You know, I told Flynn to be careful with your heart,” he says, pushing back his chair. “I didn’t realize I should have been saying it the other way around.”

“Hey now,” Rufus interjects, standing as well. “Easy. That’s not fair, man.”

“Yes, it is,” Ethan insists. “They’re in love with him and he wants to just throw that away.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Wyatt argues. 

“Isn’t it?”

The three of them are quiet until they get out to the street, heading back to the hotel. 

“They’re better off without me. Given enough time, they’ll realize that as well,” Wyatt says then. “Lucy—”

“For god’s sake,” Ethan swears. “Lucy already knows the worst of what you could tell her. Flynn knows too, because he was there for almost all of it. They fell in love with you anyway. And you want to give that up because—what, you’re scared?”

“It’s not so easy as—”

“Fuck you, Logan, I know it’s not easy. We’ve all got shit, none of that is easy. But finding people who get it is a hell of a lot better than wandering in the dark until you eat the barrel of a gun one day.”

Wyatt steps back like he’s been struck, and even Rufus sucks in an audible breath. 

“I haven’t—I wouldn’t—”

Ethan gives him a look that says _Don’t lie to a fellow vet_ , and Wyatt stops trying.

“I’m not ready,” he admits instead. “I’ll fuck it up.”

“It you think they won’t wait for you to be ready, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought,” Ethan replies. “The point is, you tell them that. You don’t run.”

The thought of talking makes Wyatt want to break out in hives, but the look on Ethan’s face makes it clear that further arguing isn’t going to go well for him. 

“Look, Wyatt,” Rufus says. “You were a pretty sorry bastard when we first started all this. But with them...they make you happy. And if there’s one thing I’ve realized since getting back, it’s that we have to take happiness when it comes. Just because it isn’t easy doesn’t mean it isn’t right. If it’s hard, that means it’s real.”

The three of them stop in the hotel lobby and Wyatt doesn’t know what else to say. Not that he was necessarily expecting them to agree with him, but he also wasn’t expecting...this...either. The elevator opens and Rufus and Ethan step in. When Wyatt doesn’t follow, Ethan holds out a hand to stop the doors from closing, dropping his voice so only Wyatt can hear.

“The man I loved drowned in the middle of the Atlantic,” he says. “I’ll never get him back. So if I have to sit here and watch you blow this for yourself because you’d rather be a self-loathing jackass than risk actually being happy, I’ll kick your ass myself. Got it?”

He steps back and lets the doors close before Wyatt can think of anything to say in reply. Wyatt takes the stairs.

* * *

Lucy doesn’t know what she expected from the day after kissing Flynn in a hotel hallway, but it’s surprisingly normal. The only difference is that when she sees him, she doesn’t worry about walking too close or pulling away when their hands brush. Instead, she welcomes the casual touches, letting their fingers catch and release, a quiet thrill sparking down her spine. Her only real concern is Wyatt—Wyatt, who looks more than a little like a dog that’s been kicked in the moments where he thinks no one is looking. 

“I kissed him,” Flynn admits as they walk back to the hotel. “And I told him we both wanted him and that we could talk about that later today. But he was gone when I woke up.”

“Maybe it was too much at once?” Lucy wonders. “I mean, he and Jess just ended things a month ago.”

“I know, but—” Flynn rakes a hand through his hair. “You didn’t see him. He kept saying how happy he was for us and wouldn’t look at me and I couldn’t let him think—but maybe I pushed too hard.”

Lucy rests her hand on his arm, then lets it travel down so she can twine their fingers together. 

“If you thought it was necessary, it probably was,” she says. “It just means we might have to be more careful with him. Go slow.”

“Slow,” Flynn echoes. He glances down at their tangled hands and squeezes gently. “I can manage slow.”

When they reach his door, Lucy drops Flynn’s hand in favor of kissing him ever so softly before pulling away. There’s none of the desperate heat of the night before, just pure sweetness and familiarity. Slow. She can also manage that. With both of them.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” she says. “Have to go make myself contest presentable.”

“You’re already beautiful,” Flynn replies, and Lucy barely restrains herself from kissing him again. 

Slow. They can do slow.

Of course, that thought goes out the window after the audition itself, when the producer, Nicholas Keynes tells them they’ve made it onto the broadcast before they even finish the number. Lucy, Wyatt, and Flynn sign the form his assistant—a Miss Whitmore—puts in front of them without reading it, and in the high of having cleared yet another step in their journey, Lucy forgets herself. They’ve barely stepped outside when she looks at Wyatt’s broad grin and pulls him down to kiss her. 

Wyatt freezes when her mouth touches his, but then slowly, tentatively returns the kiss. His hands tremble when he settles them on her waist, and it just makes Lucy want to kiss him harder, to prove that he doesn’t need to be afraid, that she wants him, she loves him, she forgives him, and she isn’t going anywhere. 

He wets his lips when he pulls back, as if chasing the taste of her, and elation and panic war in his eyes. Wyatt looks at Flynn over her shoulder, then to her, then back again.

“I wasn’t lying last night,” Flynn says quietly. “There’s no us without you.”

“I—” Wyatt shoves his hands into his pockets, as though that might stop them from shaking. “I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay,” Lucy replies, reaching out to touch his face. “We’ll be here when you are.”

“I’m not worth that—”

“That’s for us to decide,” she interrupts. Space, she’ll give him. Time, she’ll give him. But no one gets to put down the people she loves, not even them. “And I think you’re worth everything. Both of you.”

Lucy kisses his cheek and steps back. 

“I love you, Wyatt Logan,” she says. She hadn’t needed to say it with Flynn, but she thinks Wyatt needs to hear it in a way that Flynn perhaps didn’t. “I love you, and I want to be with you, however long it takes. So...take your time, freak out if you need to, as long as you come back to us.”

Wyatt looks over at Flynn once more. Flynn shrugs.

“What she said.”

Wyatt blows out a breath and grabs his case. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t say anything right now,” Flynn says. “Just think about it. Can you do that at least?’

Their eyes lock and hold for a long moment, and finally, Wyatt nods. 

“Yeah, I—I can think about it.” With that, he walks off, and Lucy has to press her lips together to stop herself from calling him back. 

“When you said slow, I didn’t think you meant the speed of a moving train.” 

Lucy narrows her eyes at Flynn’s tease. “You weren’t any better last night,” she replies. 

Flynn laughs and takes her hand, bringing it to his lips. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Do you think he’ll run?” She asks. 

“I think...we’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, we’ll give him space, like you said. The ball is in his court now.”

Wait and see. Lucy hates that there’s a risk, hates that there’s always a chance Wyatt could decide to leave them both completely. Because no matter what, she needs him in her life, even if he doesn’t want it to be in a romantic capacity. She’s tired of losing people. 

But Flynn is right. Pushing any harder might really unravel everything. So...they’ll wait and see. 

As it turns out, they don’t have to wait long. 

Lucy hardly sees Wyatt leading up to the broadcast, but he’s there with the rest of them when Ethan rushes in minutes before and tells them the truth about what exactly it is they signed. 

“Wait, so...if we go out there—”

“They’ll own your song,” Ethan replies. 

“Then we’ll just have to play something no one would ever dare put in the pictures,” Flynn says. He and Wyatt lock eyes again and something passes between them before Wyatt looks at Lucy. 

“Do you remember all the original words to Welcome Home? Could you sing it right now—the original version?”

“I—” Lucy’s heart skips a beat. “Yes, but...Wyatt, Flynn, are you sure? We could be blacklisted, or worse.”

“We’ve all been through worse,” he replies, and as she looks around, everyone nods. “And this is—they want a fantasy, they want to pretend that we all made it home and it’s this beautiful, heroic thing. But that’s—that’s not true. What happened over there, that’s true. What this band means to us, that’s true. What I feel—”

Wyatt’s voice cracks as he looks between her and Flynn, and he clears his throat before continuing. “What I feel for you, for both of you, is true. No matter how hard it is, no matter how much time it takes, I need—I need to be with you. Because I love—I love—”

Lucy kisses him then, kisses him as the band before them finishes and makes their way offstage, then kisses Flynn for good measure. And with a deep breath, she steps onto the stage. 

_Welcome Home, my boys._


End file.
